


Need A Hand, Clarence?

by misha_anon



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon Divergence, F/M, Fluffy Ending, Human Castiel, Minor Angst, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-23
Updated: 2014-01-23
Packaged: 2018-01-09 17:46:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1148996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misha_anon/pseuds/misha_anon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel is certain his story is at its end when he's cornered in a wet alley by angels looking for retribution for their fall from Heaven.  A familiar face shows up in the nick of time to rescue him from his attackers and just so happens to take the stray former angel home for a little TLC.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Need A Hand, Clarence?

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2013 SPN Reverse!Bang, based on [artwork](https://24.media.tumblr.com/c51263e789c3688898539364c6a02d50/tumblr_mzvx92atHZ1ql2nvno1_500.png) by [wifihunters](http://wifihunters.tumblr.com/).

“Need a hand, Clarence?”

Castiel opens his eyes slowly at the sound of the familiar woman’s voice. Meg paints a striking - if slightly bloodstained - picture where she towers over his cowering place against the cold brick wall.  He reaches up with a shaking hand to wipe the blood from his eyes, wondering if this is the beginning of his afterlife.  How strange, he thinks, that a demon would be the one to greet him.  

“Meg?  I thought you were..  Am I dead?” The words stick in Castiel’s throat, choked and fearful.  Meg laughs and offers her hand to help him to his feet; the coppery taste of blood in his mouth and the renewed pounding in his head work in tandem to dispel the notion of his demise.

“I’m not an expert,” she tells him, reaching up to straighten his hoodie, “but you look pretty alive to me.  Anyway, I remember angels being a hell of a lot harder to kill.”

Castiel’s body tightens as he stares; his voice cold when he informs her: “I’m not an angel anymore.”

“Oh.”  Meg’s reply holds none of the sarcasm Castiel has come to expect.  Instead, she purses her lips and looks up and down the alley, now empty save the two of them and three newly-dead angels.  Her face is soft when she looks back up at him, pressing his blade back into his hand as she speaks.  “We should get you in out of the cold, then.”

Without another word she turns and walks away, leaving Castiel to follow on unsteady legs, still dabbing at the bloody wound on his forehead.   He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, fighting down the edge of fear that still grips his heart.  Before he can lose himself in an examination of just how severely he underestimated human bravery before he was human, Meg looks back over her shoulder and offers another encouraging smile.  For the first time since he saw his siblings approaching in the alley Castiel feels like everything just might be okay.

It’s a short walk, silent except for the few cars that whizz by on the street beside them.  As they walk, Castiel stuffs his cold hands into the pockets of his hoodie and stares at the back of Meg’s too-blonde head.  He’s lost to his thoughts, so much so that he doesn’t notice her pace slowing as they turn down yet another sidewalk.

“You hungry?”  Meg stops at a nondescript door and pulls a key out of her pocket to unlock it as Castiel struggles to compose himself after the near fall.  

“Yes,” he answers simply, nodding as she swings the door open and gestures for him to go inside.

“Stay here until I get back.”

Castiel draws a breath to argue, not yet willing to let his newfound savior out of his sight; but Meg reaches out and takes his hand, squeezing gently.  Her smile is as reassuring as her words when she tells him, “Don’t worry, you’ll be safe here.  I promise I won’t be gone long.”

When she closes the door and locks it between them on any further thoughts of argument, he sighs and takes a step back to calm the sudden rush of anxiety before turning around to survey his new surroundings.  It’s a small apartment, a little dingy but definitely cleaner than where he slept last night.  He tries not to think about what might have happened to its human owner as he studies porcelain figurines lined neatly on a shelf.

As his fear and the adrenaline it brought start to ebb away, it’s replaced by a bone-deep weariness that ends unceremoniously in his stretching out on the too-short couch.  With a throw pillow beneath his head and his arms crossed over his chest, still clutching his blade, he decides to close his eyes and rest while he waits for Meg to return with their dinner.

***

Castiel is awakened by the unmistakable feeling of being watched.  Startled by the sensation and disoriented by his strange surroundings, he swings his blade frantically while he tries to gather his bearings.  Meg’s voice cuts through the haze of deep sleep.

“Calm down, Clarence,” she says with a chuckle.  “I fetch you food and you’re gonna try to stab me in the face?”

When he finally blinks enough to focus, chasing the sleepy cobwebs from his mind, Castiel sees Meg sitting in a chair facing the couch.  He sits up and rubs his face, wincing when he hits one of the fresh wounds he’d managed to forget about.  The smile fades from Meg’s face as she watches him shiver with the memory of being cornered in the alley and soundly beaten.  She frowns when she reaches out to pull his hand away from the freshly dried blood and he shies from her touch.

“Hey, come eat and then we’ll get you cleaned up,” Meg tells him, retreating toward a tiny dining area where greasy paper bags sit on an equally tiny table.  “I brought back burgers, but you were sleeping so peacefully I didn’t have the heart to wake you.”

“Demons don’t have hearts,” Castiel replies matter-of-factly.  He’s rewarded with Meg’s laughter and he can’t help smiling with pride although the apparent joke was unintended.

“Can’t a girl pretend?” She answers with a wink.  

While Castiel eats, Meg coaxes the story of his current predicament from him.  With the exception of the occasional “hmm” or “oh”, she listens without comment as he lays out the events that transpired after her presumed death.  He tells her of Metatron’s manipulation and eventual betrayal, of the theft of his grace that must have somehow been used to cast the other angels out of Heaven with Castiel.  He finds himself grateful, if more than a little surprised, by her lack of sarcastic comment on Heaven being locked.

When he falls into a moody silence, she sits quietly with him, staring at the floor in thought.  Castiel feels hope rise in his chest that perhaps Meg will know something he doesn’t about how to return Heaven to the way it was meant to be since, at this point, he’s exhausted every bit of knowledge he possesses.  As the moments pass, his hope fades.  

“I’m sorry,” Meg says finally, looking across the table to meet his gaze.

“Why are you sorry?”  He answers, looking down at the few fries left in his pile.  “It’s my fault they fell.  It’s my fault my brothers and sisters want me dead.”

“No,” she returns sharply. “It’s Metatron’s fault.”

He nods slowly, taken aback by the defiance in her tone.  Dean, of course, had said the same thing.  Castiel didn’t believe him, either.

“How about a shower?”  Meg is smiling again, as though she never rebuked him.  “Being clean is clinically proven to make people feel better about their situation.”

“It is?”  Castiel tilts his head, not missing the way Meg bites her lip to stop laughter.

“I don’t know,” she says easily with a shrug.  “It sounds plausible, though, right?”

Castiel can’t deny that a hot shower sounds like the best thing in the world at the moment, so when Meg slips her hand into his and pulls him to his feet, he doesn’t resist.  She leads him through a small bedroom and points through the door to a bathroom that’s barely big enough for all the porcelain that’s crammed into it.

“Everything’s in there.”  Meg releases his hand and grins as she tugs at his hoodie.  “I took the liberty of procuring some clean clothes for you while I was out.  Unless you’re just really attached to these.”

“No,” Castiel replies.  “They were..  convenient.”  

He waits for Meg to return to the living room, suddenly feeling self-conscious at the thought of undressing in front of her.  After he’s closed the door behind her, he unzips the maroon hoodie and pulls it off, letting it fall to the floor.  His other clothing follows quickly behind and soon thereafter, he’s standing under scalding hot spray, letting the stinging water run over his face and down his body.  He loses track of time as he begins to slowly wash his body, carefully cleaning his fresh wounds and examining the bruises that were hidden under his clothes.

The rustle of the shower curtain is the first indication that he’s no longer alone.  before he can turn to see what’s behind him, Meg asks, “Need someone to wash your back?”

Castiel turns toward the sound, wiping water out of his eyes to find Meg standing naked in the tub with him.  He tries to look away from the soft curve of her breasts and the jut of one cocked hip, but he can’t bring himself to.  He swallows hard, eyes trailing up her body, drinking in every detail until he finally meets her eyes.  A familiar teasing glint shines there and she’s wearing a smug smile.

“I..”  He starts, his voice cracking on the word.  After clearing his throat, he tries again.  “I already washed my back.” 

The smile never leaves Meg’s face as she steps closer, looking up.  The heat of the enclosed space is suddenly overwhelming and Castiel feels his ears burning hot at the intensity of her gaze.

“Oh, well,” she says, pressing a dry palm to his wet hip.  “I guess you don’t need me, then, do you?”

His mouth goes dry at the smoky tone of her voice, he licks his lips and stares, trying to find words.  When her bare breasts press against his body, any hope of coherence flies out the window.  He rests his suddenly shaky hands on her shoulders in answer, forgetting to be ashamed of his nakedness when the head of his hardening cock brushes against her stomach.  She takes his hissed breath as permission, reaching up with her free hand to pull him down for a kiss.

The first gentle press of lips is electric, quickening his heartbeat and stealing the air from his lungs in a whoosh.  Chastity follows coherence as viable options when he slides his hands into Meg’s hair, framing her face and kissing her again and again.  Soft kisses give way to an animal hunger; Castiel’s fingers tighten in her hair, pulling her into ever deeper presses of lips until he’s mapping the curve of her lips and the hard line of her teeth with the tip of his tongue.

Meg’s hand slips lower on his hip, slick fingertips grabbing at his skin as she encourages the subtle rocking of his hips.  The wet almost-friction of his cock against her skin is maddeningly ineffective and he pulls away from her lips, panting and desperate for more.  When Meg opens her eyes to see him staring, words are unnecessary.  She leans up for another kiss, reaching behind him to turn off the water as she does so and without stopping to find a towel, she pulls him by the hip - kiss by searing hot kiss - out of the bathroom.

Castiel finds himself on his back in the middle of the bed in short order.  He struggles to catch his breath, pull together a thought; but Meg is kissing his thigh, her nose brushing tantalizingly close to his almost painfully drawn up balls and he can barely remember his own name.  He closes his eyes, lips caught between his teeth as he tangles his fingers in her thick hair again, savoring the sensation of her breath on his overheated flesh.  

Her lips press to his wet skin over and over in a line up the inside of his hipbone, her cheek brushing the side of his cock, forcing a whimper from deep in his chest.  By the time she’s pressed her trail of teasing kisses all the way around the head of his cock and across his other hip, he’s trembling with need.  Her small hands are on his hips again, holding him still while she nuzzles the soft dip below his navel.

“Please,” he groans, the feel of his cock brushing the underside of her chin almost unbearable.  “Please.”

Meg settles easily astride Castiel’s body and he pushes her hair back out of her face, tugging it in his frantic desire to see her face.  He’s knocked breathless by the pink in her cheeks and the all-too-human beauty he was never able to see as an angel.  She’s watching him through half-lidded eyes, slowly licking her lips as he slides his hands down her neck and over her shoulders.  

Castiel’s breath comes in ragged gasps as she rocks her hips to tease her wetness against the shaft of his trapped cock.  When she leans forward and lifts her hips, Castiel is caught off-guard by the movement, whimpering with pleasure as the head of his cock presses against her heat.  She leans closer, the softness of her breasts against his chest as her lips find his earlobe.  She drags her teeth over the sensitive flesh before she whispers,  “Is this your first time, Castiel?”

The unexpected sound of his name brings Castiel’s full focus to Meg’s words.  He opens his mouth to answer, but can only gasp again when she presses a kiss to the hollow beneath his ear.  He settles for nodding the answer to her question, his cheek dragging against hers with the movement.  With one hand pressed to the side of his neck and her cheek pressed to his, she reaches between them, sure fingers wrapping around his cock to guide him inside her.  The tight heat of her body is overwhelming as he slides slowly in, marveling at the way she surrounds him.

“I’ll be gentle,” Meg coos, kissing Castiel’s neck as she rolls her hips to push him deeper.  He’s pretty sure he’s going to die when he feels her ass push against his thighs, the entirety of his cock buried inside her.  He draws a shuddering breath, hips bucking upward as though there’s anywhere to go, and moans at the onslaught of sensation.  It couldn’t possibly get better, he thinks as he lifts his chin, focusing on the play of her teeth and lips at his throat.  Never in a million years.

He’s proven wrong when Meg shifts her hips and begins to slide up and down his cock.  He wants to tell her not to go the first time she lifts herself, but before he can fully form the thought - much less the words - she’s dropping again and pushing the breath right out of his lungs.  It takes a moment for Castiel to find her rhythm, his upward thrusts erratic and accompanied by groans of pleasure as he’s enveloped in the her wetness over and over.

With one hand on her hip, he guides her, falling into rhythm with her downward movement, his other hand finding its way back to her damp hair to pull her lips to his.  The kisses are wet and imprecise, bitten lips and bitten off moans as their bodies surge together.  Castiel feels heat build in the middle of him, blinding and intense like the worst pain he’s ever felt, but somehow very different.  Forgotten are the cuts and bruises as he tugs at Meg’s hair, teeth finding the curve of her jaw.  He twists his hips erratically, desperate for more, more, more of her growls and the breathy sigh at the end of each moan.

The exquisite pain building in the pit of his belly threatens to consume him, pushing him to grab Meg’s hips and pull her down harder and quicker, her moans raising in pitch to match the fevered pace of his thrusts.  It isn’t until he feels his cock stiffen and the fire in his belly expand outward that he realizes something is changing too quickly for him to stop it.  His fingers dig into the soft flesh of Meg’s hips and she lets out a sharp yelp, half stifled by her teeth closing on the thick muscle of his shoulder.

Release explodes through his body, choking a whimper in his throat as he feels the hot flood of his own come making Meg impossibly tight.  It feels like he’s being turned inside out one atom at a time, excruciatingly good and more than a little terrifying.  Castiel hears his own voice crying out Meg’s name followed by half-articulated words that make no sense, even to him.   

Meg rolls her hips down hard, her wetness squeezing tighter and tighter around Castiel’s cock as she lets out a breathy moan that wrings out the last bit of pleasure from Castiel’s fuzzy gray thoughts.  When he finally remembers to breathe, the influx of oxygen makes him grab at the bed, afraid he’s going to fall from dizziness.  Half a second later, Meg collapses on top of him, still damp and panting and Castiel feels her heart thumping in time with his.

He swallows hard, traces a hand over the curve of her hip as he tries to gather his composure and swallows again.  When he closes his eyes, he can hear the occasional half-whimper that accompanies Meg’s ragged breaths.  He wraps his arms around her body and pulls her quivering body closer against his own, kissing the top of her head.  Suddenly, Castiel’s self-consciousness returns with a vengeance, stealing his words.  It’s a long moment before Meg lifts her head to look at him, but she only smiles.  Castiel laughs, a small almost nervous sound he didn’t intend to make, and Meg presses a chaste kiss to his lips.

“We should probably take a shower,” she says, her lips brushing his.  He briefly considers protesting on the grounds that he just had a shower, but this hardly seems like the time to take a stand on facts.  She doesn’t move other than to trail her fingertips down the outside of Castiel’s arm, tracing the muscle so lightly it tickles.  When he shivers, she takes the opportunity to kiss his ear before she lays her head back on his shoulder.  

Castiel wonders if he should remind her about the shower, but that hardly seems prudent either since her soft warmth pressed against his body is so pleasurable.  They’ll get around to a shower later, he figures, but in the meantime, he presses a flurry of kisses to her temple and her forehead, overcome with fondness for the demon who doesn’t really act like much of a demon.

“You’re beautiful,” Castiel murmurs into her mussed hair.

He hears the smile in her voice when she replies with a husky, “Took you long enough to notice.  I was starting to get a complex.”

Her slender body shakes atop his as she laughs and Castiel squeezes tighter and laughs with her.  For the moment, at least, not being an angel isn’t so bad.  As their laughter fades, Castiel pushes the hair out of Meg’s face and shifts to look at her.

“Thank you,” he says quietly.  “For everything you’ve done for me.”

“How about we call it even, Clarence?” she asks with a fond smile as she stretches up for a kiss.


End file.
